


Drawn to the Beacon by Blood

by DannisonDrables



Series: Cursed in The Moonlight [1]
Category: Beautiful Creatures (2013), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Angst, BAMF Deaton, BAMF Erica, BAMF Lydia Martin, BAMF Stiles, Beautiful Creatures - Freeform, Caster Deaton, Caster Stiles, Cursed Stiles, Dark Caster Morrel, Dark Magic, Dark Stiles, F/F, F/M, Gen, Light Caster Deaton, M/M, Magic Stiles, Memories, Mom Erica, Nice Derek, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Pining Derek Hale, Scisaac - Freeform, Stiles isn't as bad as he seems maybe?, Stilinski Family Feels, Teasing, Teen Wolf, Threatening, Werebaby, You should totally trust my judgement, hurt comfort, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-29 20:19:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannisonDrables/pseuds/DannisonDrables
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He misses the delicateness of it all the most. How it felt to pluck a splinter from your finger and feel relief, the coolness of air against the heat of the sun. He misses the way he was fragile against the brutal strength of the world, and how the world had the ability to ware on him, as it used to; the heat pulling sweat from his skin, the cold sapping at his warmth. Now he exists as a constant, not changing and not growing. He misses growing, the possibilities of something more than keeping himself entertained. It's just his current ideas of entertainment are fucked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drawn to The Beacon by Blood

**Author's Note:**

> (Editted slightly but it no plot changes, just a few details and explinations added in and I made it less rough) I don't know if I still have the same amount of readers as I had once, and I'll tell you now that yes I flaked on my old stories and it makes me sad. But I've been busy with losing family and planing a giant move across the country so I'm sorry. But that won't affect this story. This is my way of starting over. This is a Beautiful Creatures and Teen Wolf cross over, something I haven't seen yet and have always really wanted to do. Stiles is kind of a dick for a while, but if you like BAMF sassy Stiles who has a soft spot for a certain pup just maybe and like angst and fluff stick around. I would really love hearing from you about this story. It's my new baby and I'm really happy with where I've taken it. Let me know! <3 FEED BACK!!!

He misses the delicateness of it all the most. How it felt to pluck a splinter from your finger and feel relief, the coolness of air against the heat of the sun. He misses the way he was fragile against the brutal strength of the world, and how the world had the ability to ware on him, as it used to; the heat pulling sweat from his skin, the cold sapping at his warmth. Now he exists as a constant, not changing and not growing. He misses growing, the possibilities of something more than keeping himself entertained.  
                He isn’t lucky, lucky like those characters in those books that magically end up being good and keep their innocence. You can’t tackle Bambi and be happy with it, you can’t. There are no good guys when you are like how he is now. You’re only a slut or a soulless fucker. And Stiles did the slut thing, lingering under street lights and smiling that smile that everyone thought was just for them. They liked to lick him, taste his skin, and then he’d taste them.  
                He doesn’t remember being Scott’s best friend, the guy who did research for the pack, or the son of the Sheriff, and he doesn’t look like that kid either. The dark shadows around his eyes, the black fingernails, the light purple lips and where his veins are visible, they are black.  
                He doesn’t know how his mom did it, really, this emptiness that opened up in his chest the night of his eighteenth birthday. It leaves him quaking and quivering, trying to shove the walls surrounding that great expanse inside of him back together, to make them mesh and hold so he doesn’t feel that pit of hollow decay. He supposes his Grandmother is out there somewhere, because she has to be to have sent him the book, the book that appeared at his feet after the moon released him from her grasp, his skin glowing from the inside, the porcelain in front of candle light, his eyes changing from whisky brown to pale sea green.  
                He doesn’t bother saying things like it’s not fair anymore, because he knows that nothing is. His whole life has been about things that weren’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Scott got the girl and the gift, the gift; Stiles would like to point out, that he bitched and moaned about for the longest time. It wasn’t fair that he was treated like that stupid kid who tried to run with the wolves, the animals that left him behind most of the time because he was human. But he wasn't human anymore, was he?  
                He sat in the large undiscovered house in upstate New York, not really fuming, but the shadows that stretched out from him and ate at any source of light told a story of his…discomfort and he can admit, his sadness. Why was he, now so much more powerful than any of those werewolves, still the one with the shitty end of the stick? It seems that in all his brooding, and yeah, Caster or not he can admit when he is brooding, he must have forgotten that revenge is his thing now.  
  
-  
  
                Derek didn’t know what happened after Halloween two and a half years ago. It started an emptiness inside of him, like his wolf clawed away at him from the inside out, leaving his insides bloody, gaping and bleeding. The pack felt it too, the same sadness in all there eyes when the familiar frame wasn't taking up the couch or lap space, no racous laughter disturbing silences. Lydia moved to Berkley, threw herself into school and work and the hopes of graduating early.  Jackson went to London and Derek agreed with Lydia, a miracle, about the cliché. A teen werewolf in London? He sighed. Erica was coming back from losing herself in man after man, but with a kid on the hip, and Boyd never talked anymore, but he did cry often, not that he let anyone see, but the sad smell of salt and lingering traces of floral told them so. Allison started going to church, and Derek wasn’t going to ask about that at all, especially not since the scene she caused at the Fall Festival when she found out Isaac and Scott were now dating for a month solid. They were the only two Derek could stand to be around and that was something new. He loved having Erica and her cub with him, a little boy he called Pup who he always found tucked up under her arm as he made little plane noises and blew raspberries into the air. Derek spoiled the little wolf, showering him with toys and gifts. When he first laid eyes on the little boy he paid off all Erica’s lingering debt from hospital visits when she was still human and moved her into the newly rebuilt Hale house.  They were happy and Derek’s heart beat harder and harder every time the little boy called him _‘unca rek’_ because ‘Uncle Derek’ was a mouthful for a two year old.  
                The sheriff had moved, left town when Stiles vanished, and he left knowing the whole truth. The pack had hunted and hunted, tracked so many creatures, hoping to find the one that had taken Stiles from them. But after a year and a half they accepted that if Stiles hadn’t found his way back, and he would of because he’s Stiles, then he was dead. There was a plot in Beacon Hills cemetery for him, the headstone a statue of a small boy leaning into the flank of a wolf. Everyone in Beacon Hills was there, mourning for the Sheriff’s son.  
                The pack did their best to pick up and carry on, and Derek did his best as an Alpha after that, because Stiles was always trying to make him better, and Derek wanted to be better for him. He did do better, with the way he pushed himself to trust every member of his pack, or what was left of it, he did do better. He made mandatory pack meetings that didn’t involve anything besides food and movies and stupid games that Stiles would have loved. He did amazing… but his wolf suffered. He could feel it inside, always searching for Stiles. Derek knew how important Stiles was to him. He knew the very moment that his wolf found its mate in Stiles, and he knew mating was for life. He couldn’t change the fact that the ADHD boy with a severe problem with brain to mouth filter was never coming back. So every morning he got up, running the borders of his territory that the pack had worked on pushing out to surround Beacon hills, every morning giving himself to the wolf and running on paws, searching but never finding.  
                He did the samething this morning, waking up around five, throwing himself out his bedroom window and launching out into the dim early morning light, charging through the trees with his claws digging into the lush ground. Cutting all the way out through the preserve to get to the edge of town before barreling around, chasing down a deer or two every now and then before finishing the loop. He kept a pair of jeans and a sweater in a hollow log close to town along with his old worn out leather boots and he pulled those on, jogging into the heart of the town, smiling at the now familiar faces, the people who had gotten to know him over the limited amount of time he had had to integrate into the community. He bought the local flower shop and now he and Erica sold garden supplies and flowers.  He did commissions as well, landscaping, because he _did_ go to college thank you, Erica, and had a trade, one that made him proud and that he was also good at. So every now and then he’d get Isaac and the three of them would go to the site and create a masterpiece with nature.    
                The small bakery on the corner near his shop already had his order waiting for him on the counter and he paid before lingering to grin at the kind old lady, Mrs. Betrie who always sneaks him two gingersnap cookies because she knows how much he loves them and she thinks he needs to gain some weight, something she's told him many times while pinching his cheeks and calling him sugar. Derek won’t forget the level and impatient look she gave him when he told her how much he weighed as if he thought it would help his case. He’s muscled! He doesn’t need more weight. She just clucked her tongue and gave him an extra muffin. 'For the cause.' she had claimed  
                He can’t help but be a little disappointed and bit jealous of what he overhears on his way out.  
                “He looks like death eatin’ a cracker.” Mrs. Bertie whispers dramatically, clutching her pearls in the worried way she does whens someone isn’t knee on diabetic and gaining five pounds a week. Derek had thought she might eat people from how much she tries to fatten everyone up.  
                “He must have blown in over night.” Her daughter, just as much of a gossip, breathed back, her head bent close. “No one’s seen any moving trucks or strange cars, so unless he came from the other side of town through the city I don’t see how we coulda’ missed him.”  
                “Do you know where he lives at least? I could bring him some cookies, maybe could for the dear boy, welcome him to the town?”  
                “Up there past the Hales, on Light House Hill. In that great big house all by himself, it breaks my heart.” The old woman sighed sadly and worried her pearls more, her old fingers fiddling, a habit he knew she had when she wasn’t working. “I saw him just the once, and it broke my heart. You know those teenagers and their trends, his nails were black and he was wearing purple lipstick! And all that eye shadow, and he can’t be more than eighteen. Prettiest eyes I’d ever seen though, like sea glass.” She preened a little before turning to check the oven that sat just behind the counter, pulling out a rack of freshly baked cookies. “That’s it. I’ve decided. I’m taking these to him… alone.” She leveled her daughter with a look and started shuffling around.  
                Derek left the bakery chuckling to himself. He really loved that old lady with the bony tight hugs that made him want to cry sometimes. His shop glowed with warmth, pulling him in to it's comfortable warmth. Beacon Hills didn’t get snow, all of it getting caught in the mountains, but they did get glacial winds that froze almost everything, and despite being the middle of January it was no exception.  When he walked in Pup was sitting on the counter, a pumpkin butter bagel with cream cheese squished in his hands as he munched.  
                “Hungry, Pup?” He chuckled, ruffling the toddlers blonde curls and laughing outright at the shocked look it earned him.  Pup scrubbed his hair ‘fixing’ it before nodding vigorously, his eratic blonde curls sticking up everywhere like little coils. Derek knew a few things about the Pup that Erica had sworn him to secrecy over, but the Pups big brown eyes that were almost black spoke volumes, so much like someone else he knew.   
                “Where’s your momma?” He asked, eyeing around the shop before reaching into the bag as quietly as possible, trying not to crinkle the paper and pulling out a gingersnap cookie. “She around?” he kept up the conversation, his eyes crinkling with his smile as the little boy all but yipped when he saw the big round sugar clustered cookie.  
                “In back.” He chattered, fingers making grabby hands. When Derek handed over the cookie half of it disappeared, and he had to laugh. Pup’s cheeks were full and sticking out as he made growly happy noises into the treat.  
                “You are as bad as a two year old, Derek!” Erica wheeled around the corner and both Derek and the Pup gave her wide innocent eyes, their mouthes hanging open in shock. Erica was admittedly scary before, but being a mom made her truly terrifying. Derek was proud of her. She had turned out to be an excellent mom, something she had always wanted to be apparently. Some girls want to be models, Erica always dreamed of raising a family and having her kids be healthy and happy, unlike she was. He knew she wished her family was whole, but he always knew how happy was to have that little boy in her life. Someone she could love.  
                “I’m supposed to spoil him, Erica. I’m his Alpha. Aren’t I Pup?” He lightly nudged the toddler who looked up confused before nodding vigorously at his mom.  
                “Affa unca rek.” He mumbled around cookie. Derek grinned proudly, his eyes flashing briefly at Pup and his little black eyes burnishing with gold for a brief second, giving a rumbly little growl before yipping and diving back onto the cookie. Erica growled low and flicked his button nose. Pup snapped at her playfully before turning and hunching over his cookie like he had to protect it.  
                “You’re supposed to spoil _him_ , not his lunch. He won’t eat his lunchable later. And then he’ll be cranky and will want an early dinner which also means a snack before bed and guess who won’t be able to sleep from a too full belly? _Hmmm?_ ” She grumbled and stole the other cookie before digging in the box from the bakery, pulling out her lemon poppy seed muffin and shuffling away as if she had a leg to stand on. “Not a word, Derek.” She barked before burying herself into the muffin, moaning as she disappeared again into the back room to arrange the shelves all over again.  
                “You’re momma is wierd.” He told the pup.  
                “S’da hair.” The little pup mumbled, tugging at his own crazy curly locks.  
                “Yeah… the hair, right.” He laughed and started working.  
                 
-  
                Mrs. Bertie drove up the long gravel road to Light House Hill, where the large coal black house stood even against the test of time, the wrap around porch littered with leafs and the yard overgrown, grass standing as high and blowing in the wind like ocean waves. The windows were covered in bright auburn curtains with golden floral embroidery, a reef hanging on the door adorned with wild flowers. She thought it made the house look more lived in and welcome, even lightening the coal to an ashen deep gray. She parked the old station wagon that used to be the family car before all her children moved out and left her behind, only calling on holidays and walked up the wide front porch, just about ready to knock when she heard the voice calling to her in the wind. She knew she tended to cluck like a mother hen over the local boys, fixing their hair and often knitting them sweaters for the winter, but it was all she had left, her last granddaughter gone away to school.  
                “Just around here.” A voice called just as she was getting ready to knock. She followed it around the house on the porch till she got to the back where she found a figure working in the garden, head covered in a large garden hat made from straw.  
                “Oh gosh I’m sorry, I’m a mess.” Stiles stood with a bright smile, his lips pressing together in the way that made his dimples nearly cave in his cheeks. Mrs. Bertie’s eyes moved over his slim figure, clad in only cutoff jeans made into shorts, a white tank top that left his sides open and exposing his all too visible ribs and a pair of soil covered garden gloves. The garden looked beautiful though, blue and purple flowers blooming all over, all the weeds that once inhabited in lying in a pile at the boys side. His lips were still stained that soft pinkish purple and his eyes still surrounded by smoky darkness. “I’m Dylan.” He pulled off his gloves and shook her hand lightly. Stiles watched the way the woman seemed to get sadder and sadder as she looked at him, her eyes all but pricking with tears at the sight of his face. He let the cloying sweetness of the memory charm leak from his hand to hers, white mist wrapping around her head like thin smoke, ignoring the pang he felt. Mrs. Bertie babied Stiles more than he even needed, especially after his mom left and she often stayed at the house when his father finally went back to work. She held him close to her heart, so it was twice as hard to kill the memories of the boy he used to be in her mind. She would have never guessed he wasn't a boy at all.  
                Her frown disappeared and she smiled politely. “I brought you some cookies from my bakery, Dear. It’s just down into town if you ever want to come visit for a cup of cocoa and it gets mighty cold and a warm treat does anyone good. Is there a place I can set these? There’s about three dozen and they are sure heavy.” She moved to hold them in her other hand and Stiles grinned, hopping up the stairs and letting her into the house after taking the bag from her.  
                “Oh yeah, Jeeze, its freezing isn’t it?” He hadn’t noticed. He didn’t get cold anymore, not when his body tended to fix any discomforts without his say so. He led her into the kitchen and gestured for her to sit at the island while he put the kettle on, shuffling through cabinets to find mugs. “I’ve just wanted to get my hands on that garden since I moved in here that I just let the weather slip my mind. Kinda stupid of me.” He talked on, getting out tea bags and setting them in the cups. He felt a dark coiling in his gut, the veins in his arms growing steadily darker. He took a deep breath feeling the green of his eyes cooling and leveling his face out with a smile. “It’s totally nice of you to bring these here to me. I haven’t gotten to go grocery shopping yet."  
  
                Derek and Erica took lunch together, going to the small diner down the street with Pup, his bouncy curls shaking in ringlets in the brisk wind. Erica had him bundled in a red hoodie that made Derek’s heart hurt but brought a smile to his lips at the same time, bringing back the memories of awkward limbs and the upbeat steps that used to keep pace with him. His wolf whimpered but Derek just lifted the small boy up, hoisting him onto his shoulders and letting him play air plane on the way there. Stiles would be proud of him.  
                They ordered the usual, the way you did when you lived in a small town and found favorite places, things became habit for you, familiar meals became comforting and soothing. Erica ate chicken Caesar salad, dropping the baby tomatoes onto Pup’s plate and snickering to herself as he chomped onto them aggressively, growling like a wolf. Pup himself got a sub loaded with meat, and if happened to be the same thing Derek got, he wasn’t going to bring it up because he liked that the little boy idolized him. He never mentioned to Erica the time he found the Pup under his car pretending to be a mechanic like a certain other werewolf Derek wouldn't mention.  The quiet swell of sound was comforting as they ate together. It wasn’t long before Isaac and Scott walked into together hand and hand, goofy smiles lighting up their faces, and Derek had never seen Isaac look so happy in so long. The curly haired youth had appeared hunched over for the entire year after Stiles had gone missing, and it only got worse when Derek had nicknamed Erica's son. Derek hadn't realized until it was too late that Stiles had been the one to use that name on Isaac. But when Derek had confronted Isaac about it, asking if he'd rather him not use the name the boy had just teared up, smiled small and shook his head. 'It's time for someone else to be the pup now, huh?'  
                The curly haired man found them quickly enough and leaned down, plopping a huge kiss on Pup’s head before shooting Derek a pleading look. The Alpha stood and switched sides, trapping Erica between the two hungry wolves. She looked miserable. He grinned. Scott slid in beside Isaac and they placed their orders, Scott telling the Pup all about the fox he saved today while the cub listened with rapt attention. Isaac was hiding a smile behind his sleeve at Scott’s elation for having an audience and Derek got it. He liked when Pup wanted to hear about his work too.  
                Boyd found his way into the diner not long into their meal like he usually did when the pack found their way together for lunch and held onto his smile just long enough to pick up his order. He clapped Derek on the shoulder on his way out and the Alpha felt some small piece of him settle into his chest.  He had his pack, and it was functioning and it was good, but he couldn’t help but feel the things that were missing. The haughty gazes, dry chuckles and hidden smiles of Jackson, the sudden smell of vanilla and blackberries when Lydia would flip her hair and how he could practically _hear_ the way she rolled her eyes. And most of the way his pack’s eyes would glaze over as Stiles talked and talked and talked.  
                A quiet ache made its way around his ribs and Derek just breathed through it, thinking of whisky eyes and full lips pulling into fast and honest smiles.  
                Derek breathed and Derek ached.  
-  
                The tea cup rattled traitorously as he set it back onto the saucer, his eyes burning and the hunger gnawing deep inside his stomach. It happened, in the way that it always happened; black smoke filled the room, eating at the light and cloaking the windows and his eyes roiled like waves in a storm. He could see the smoke swirling around him; feel the cold wind that blew through the trees of the forest around him. He heard the crunch of stones under tires that were headed straight for him. His heart beat faster and his lungs flexed rapidly, waiting and hungering. He knew how he looked, the way he appeared taller, with strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes and a small mouthed smile. He heard the quiet voice of the kind old woman whisper her husband’s name before she veered off course and her car rolled into a ravine.  
                The smoke fell away; his fingers stopped twitching, his body cooled and his heart and lungs calmed. He was back in his kitchen, eyes closed against the sensation of ease washing over his skin, causing goose flesh to rise up. He plucked a cookie from the bag, biting into it and enjoying the clear notes of white chocolate and cinnamon. “Better enjoy these. She won't be making anymore.” He snickered, moving to stand on his porch, watching the smoke of the explosion rise in the distance.  
-  
  
                Lydia Martin had her nose in a Mythology & Science book because she needed a hobby when she wasn’t working or doing school things.  She was reading about energy manipulation when she felt her muscles begin to move without her say so.  She didn’t have time to grab a pillow or even make her way quickly to her room that she’d sound proofed. Her eyes opened slightly wider, her mouth opened, and she wailed a high and painful soprano note that rattled her book shelves and broke through the quiet of the night.  
-  
                Derek, Erica, Isaac, Scott and Boyd all raised their heads in unison, no longer looking at the Disney movie playing on screen (Princess and the Frog, with Naveen and Tiana in the Bayou making gumbo) but towards the south west where the clear notes of a familiar scream reached their ears.  
                Derek’s eyes flashed red. “Lydia.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important message.

 

I'm giving this story away. I really want to finish it but I can't afford a laptop right now and between work and school I don't have time. But I want someone who is going to care for the story and stiles just as I have to take it and that's not just anyone. So, if you are interested, email me two chapters and explain where you think this story should go and I'll pick a winner. I hope I get some responses cause I'd love to see what some if you really talented people could do with this. Email me at BethBallou23@yahoo.com with two chapters and your idea for the plot. I want this fix to at least be over 20 chapters so it's a real challenge.

**Author's Note:**

> I loooove comments and feedback! I really love seeing readers thoughts about my work. <3


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